


SherlolliShots - When No One Can See You

by Liathwen



Series: SherlolliShots [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liathwen/pseuds/Liathwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From morbidmez on tumblr: Sherlolly prompt for you, dear! Sherlock is walking past a cafe, and spots Molly inside. He decides to slip in and watch her, wanting the opportunity to see her when she thinks nobody can see her. He is shocked to learn just how much she 'knows what it means' to look sad when one thinks they are alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SherlolliShots - When No One Can See You

Sherlock Holmes was not one for sentiment. He’d said that over and over.

So he couldn’t explain why, when he happened to catch a glimpse of Molly Hooper through the window of the café, he stopped and took a better look. He supposed it was his curiosity getting the better of him. After all, he only knew how she behaved in his presence, and while that had certainly changed over the course of their relationship, ( _whatever this is,_ ) her demeanor was still affected by the fact that she knew he was nearby. He told himself that was the reason that he completely abandoned his previous quest and slipped through the door of the little coffee shop quietly and ordered a cup of coffee, black, two sugars, before seating himself.

He was out of Molly’s direct line of sight, but angled to where he could still see her face. Judging by the faraway expression on it, he could have plopped down right in front of her and she wouldn’t have noticed. He took a sip of his coffee, contemplating the look on Molly’s face.

She had once said that he had looked sad whenever he thought no one could see him. He had replied that she could see him. And then she’d said with a certainty that make Sherlock cringe at the memory that she didn’t count.

Now, as Sherlock observed Molly Hooper when she thought no one was watching, he was struck by just how well she had empathized with him that day in the lab, so long ago. Her eyes were downcast, her hands on the small table in front of her, one gripping her cup of coffee, long since gone cold if the fact that she hadn’t moved since Sherlock first saw her was any indication.

He ran over what he knew of her in his mind, eyes flitting back and forth as he accessed information, and was surprised by the sheer amount of intel he had on the shy little pathologist. For example, he knew that today was not the anniversary of anything important in her life that could explain her sadness. Her father’s death was May 4th and the day her mother had walked out on her family was June 16th. It wasn’t Molly’s birthday either, or the birthday of anyone close to her. No important work dates either.

No, if Molly was this sad, it was because she was always this sad when no one was around.

He had to admit, she faked it very well. He had had no idea that his pathologist ( _wait, mine? Yes, mine_ ) had been anything other than the sweet, happy little woman who made morbid jokes and let him walk all over her in return for a false compliment.

He winced. Sherlock really had used her rather ruthlessly in the past. He thought of all the times he’d lied to her in the form of a compliment he hadn’t meant and all the times he’d viciously cut her down in front of others.

His brow furrowed.

_Why did her weight matter?_

The only other person whose weight he noticed was John, and that was only because Mary had mentioned it.

_And why do I think about the shape of her mouth and breasts?_  he asked himself, thinking of the ill-fated Christmas party, so many years ago.

His eyes scanned over her body, hidden under the many layers she usually wore. Her form was… not unpleasant. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. And her hair was really quite gorgeous.

_No, none of that Sherlock. Be objective._

She shifted in her chair, the first movement in over twenty minutes and the detective froze. She couldn’t go, he wasn’t done observing her yet. She sighed and peered down into her coffee cup, as if she wanted to drink it but knew it would be horrible after sitting so long. Without thinking of why he did it, Sherlock drained his cup and hopped up, going to the counter to order two more, one black with two sugars, the other with a splash of milk and three sugars, just the way Molly liked it. He grabbed the cups and took a deep breath before walking over to where Molly was seated.

Unfortunately, just as he reached her, she stood, and turned to leave, crashing directly into the tall detective and spilling the coffee all over the both of them. They both sputtered for a moment, with Molly going wide eyed at the sight of Sherlock there.

There was a flash of what Sherlock thought might be guilt in her eyes and his heart hurt for a brief second, thinking that she was feeling that way because he must have seen her melancholy mood.

Luckily, the coffee didn’t burn either of them, falling mostly on their outerwear. Molly was stammering apologies when Sherlock’s eyes flitting up from where he was drying himself and caught sight of her lips. There were most definitely not too small. He could feel his heart rate increase and was sure anyone could see his pupils dilate in her close proximity.

He wasn’t stupid, even when it came to this. He knew what it meant. He had known when he was attracted to The Woman. In that case, he hadn’t trusted her enough to act on it, and it was a good thing he hadn’t, in hindsight.

But Molly, Molly was something completely different. She was kind and sweet, even when Sherlock was horrible to her. She helped him without question, and cared about him more than anyone else, even John. Sherlock trusted her and knew, deep down, that she was the most important person in his life.

And now, he’d figured out why.

She noticed how close they were and began to back away, but Sherlock’s hand shot out, taking her slender wrist in his grasp. He positioned his thumb on her pulse and was gratified to feel it speed up as well. He raised his eyes slowly to meet hers.

“Baker Street is closer than your flat. We can find you something to change into there,” he said, indicating her stained shirt with his free hand.

She bit her lip shyly, before nodding and Sherlock eagerly pulled her towards the door of the café.

Somehow, Sherlock would find a way to make her happy, even when no one was looking.


End file.
